The Peverell Petition
by Nia River
Summary: A war-weary Harry, destiny fulfilled, decides he deserves to be selfish for once, even if he has to defy fate to do it. Meanwhile, and some time ago, a teenage Sirius receives some shocking news from his parents. Sirius/Harry. SLASH. (No longer a oneshot.)
1. Chapter 1

**Posted**: 30 June, 2011

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Notes**: Ever since finishing Influence of Souls, I've decided there's something hot about the Harry/Sirius pairing. My muse demanded I write more, and thus was this story born.

**Warnings**: for slash, adult content, and possibly some coercion of the magical sort, which I suppose also qualifies it for a darkish? warning too.

* * *

><p><strong><span>The Peverell Petition<span>**

"What!" Sirius's outraged voice cried, silverware clattering noisily as it fell from numb fingers to his plate.

"You've been entered into a betrothal agreement," Sirius's father Orion repeated stuffily.

"You must be joking!" Sirius stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly across the floor as it was shoved back. "If you think for a moment that I'll go along with this, you're barking, the both of you."

"You will do as you're told, you disrespectful little brat," screeched Walburga, Sirius's mother.

It was obvious from Sirius's expression that he didn't intend to back down from this, Orion noticed. The man sighed heavily and tried to smooth things over before his wife, in her anger, ruined any chance there was of convincing their eldest son to go along with their plans.

"I should think you'll actually be pleased with the match," Orion said in a carefully-crafted idle manner as he took a sip of his elf-made wine.

"Pleased?"

"Yes. It took your would-be spouse quite some time to convince your mother, what with being a—what did you call it dear?"

"A filthy blood-traitor," Walburga said, through pursed lips. "Probably the reason for their interest in you, another pure-blood who persists in defying your breeding and heritage. Why else would they have done what they did?"

Sirius looked bewildered. "What? If you think she's a blood traitor then why did you agree to a betrothal? And what did they do that has you so annoyed?"

"Your mother had been a bit too … _vocal_, in recent years, of her support of the Dark Lord," Orion said.

Sirius snickered. "Yeah, that didn't work out too well for you, did it mother _dearest_?" he said with a dark sort of satisfaction.

"Why you disrespectful, traitorous spawn!" Walburga screeched. "You will not talk to me in such a manner in my own home!"

"Walburga, _peace_," Orion said firmly, and the woman reluctantly subsided. "As I said, your mother made no secret of her support of the Dark Lord. With his recent unexpected defeat, the tides are turning, as it were. We need to do something to salvage our reputation."

"So what, you plan to marry me off to some light witch to make the family look good?" Sirius asked in disgust.

"Not exactly," Orion said, and there was a hidden, deeper meaning behind those words that Sirius couldn't quite grasp. "And we didn't agree to this with just _any_ light petitioner. No, I think you might actually be pleased, Sirius. Your future spouse is the much-lauded-of-late Peverell."

Sirius's younger brother Regulus, who had thus far been watching the goings-on with silent but intent interest, suddenly spluttered in shock. Sirius himself wasn't much better, dropping heavily into his abandoned seat, eyes gone wide and jaw hanging open.

"Peverell?" Sirius finally choked out. "As in, the mysterious defeater of You-Know-Who, who no one knows anything about? _That_ Peverell?"

"Just so," Orion said, satisfied with the reaction his news had garnered.

"A pureblood family, at least," Walburga muttered grudgingly. "Head of the family even, being the last and all. They were thought extinct some centuries back of course, but the provided paperwork from Gringotts all proved genuine. They are who they claim."

"I trust, given this news, you'll at least grant your betrothed an audience," Orion said pointedly, "before you do something unwise like spurn them entirely?"

Sirius's jaw clenched and the entire family, even Walburga, fell into a tense, expectant silence. Finally Sirius gave a terse nod.

"I'll speak to her," he allowed. "But I won't promise anything more than that."

Orion laid a hand on his wife's arm and shook his head before she could start screeching again about disrespect. He knew that sort of reaction from Walburga could well make the boy change his mind, just to be stubborn and contrary. Their eldest was a hard-headed boy.

"That's fine," Orion said. "A meeting has been arranged for tomorrow morning at ten."

And they returned to dinner, Orion satisfied, Walburga annoyed, Regulus still shocked, and Sirius looking quite pensive.

..ooOOoo..

Sirius stood outside the door, fidgeting and nervous. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and take on that confident, even arrogant air he could play so well. Despite his seeming concession the night before he still refused to be married off, given away like some house-elf just to salve the family reputation. As far as he was concerned the Black name was already stained beyond redemption. No, the reason he had agreed to the meeting was, to be perfectly honest, pure curiosity. He couldn't pass up the chance to meet this Peverell witch, who had come out of nowhere to defeat You-Know-Who in a rather epic battle.

Taking one more deep breath he nodded and strode into the parlour without bothering to knock. Immediately his parents, who were seated opposite a stranger and facing the doorway through which he entered, looked toward him. Orion frowned disapprovingly, but Walburga was much more vocal.

"What is Merlin's name are you wearing?" she screeched, taking in the Muggle attire he had rebelliously donned for the meeting.

Sirius noticed with amusement that the stranger, Peverell no doubt, made no effort to hide her distaste for the caterwauling. What he could see of the figure cringed, hands rising to cover offended ears. The very blatant actions actually worked and, miracle of miracles, his banshee of a mother shut up, looking a little flustered. Sirius mentally added a few points to Peverell for managing that.

Speaking of Peverell, from what little he could see of the back of her seated form on an armchair, she was tall with short black hair. Shockingly short actually, for a pureblood, especially a pureblood witch. His mother must have been scandalised when first she saw it, but Sirius generally approved of anything that bucked the stodgy pureblood trends, and so a grin quirked at the corner of his lips.

And then Peverell turned in her seat to face him, and his breath caught in awe.

Green eyes and power, was the first thing to strike him. Peverell had most vividly green eyes he'd ever seen and as they met his own Sirius could, for a moment, practically feel the sheer magical power this person possessed. And then green eyes blinked and the feeling of power was gone. No, not gone, but reigned in. He was very sure, quite suddenly, that Peverell's power had just as much to do with his parents agreeing to a betrothal as had the boosting of the Black name.

And then he noticed something else, something that was really quite obvious, and his jaw dropped. He'd come down this morning to meet Peverell, the witch who apparently wished to be his wife. Only he must have gotten his incantations muddled somewhere along the way because the face he was looking at was not that of a witch at all, but instead a wizard. Peverell was a wizard. Peverell was a wizard? His would-be wife was actually a would-be husband?

"You're a bloke!" Sirius found himself blurting rather inelegantly.

Lips twitched all around. His mother's in anger, his father's in disapproval and hidden amusement, and Peverell's in undisguised humour.

Not just humour lay in those eyes though, Sirius realised through his haze of shock. No, because green orbs were sweeping his form with a sort of interest he was familiar with. He wondered if perhaps he'd made a mistake with his Muggle attire. While the boots, tight jeans, tee-shirt and leather jacket had seemed nothing more than a satisfyingly rebellious choice when he dressed, now he was reminded of just how good he looked. Something which the green-eyed wizard was obviously noticing too.

"Won't you join us?" Peverell finally spoke.

Sirius, unexpectedly, felt the tiniest of shivers run down his spine at the sound of the deep, smooth voice. Immediately after though he realised how much a moron he was acting, what with the staring and such. He snapped his mouth shut finally and straightened, adopting that confident air of his once more, and strode over to the sitting area. There he dropped into a chair, kicked his booted feet up onto the coffee table with casual insolence and smirked at his audience.

"So, you must be the famous Peverell, who offed mother dearest's beloved Dark Lord."

..ooOOoo..

Harry didn't bother to hide his huff of laughter as, at Sirius's comment, Walburga stiffened and her husband rather firmly gripped her arm to prevent her from screeching again.

He looked at Sirius, eyes trailing the figure once more as he now lounged in an armchair. He was so much like he remembered and yet conversely so different. He was younger, healthier. Stronger in body and most especially spirit. The moment he'd caught the teen's gaze had been so shocking, even though he'd been expecting it, that he'd actually lost control of the veils over his magic for a moment. It was something he'd not done for a while. Well, not without purpose and intention.

Sirius raised a brow at his continued staring. There was a casual arrogance about the teen before him that Harry remembered seeing occasionally in the post-Azkaban version of the man. Though at the moment he could tell a lot of it was just a mask. Brash false-confidence to cover uncertainty. He'd seen Sirius's shock at the sight of him and then heard that blurted comment. He realised the teen's parents must have omitted the knowledge of Harry's gender when informing him of the betrothal.

He imagined how he must look to Sirius. His eyes, which had always been admired, had become even more striking in shade after his magical maturity, which had been made all the more powerful by the Hallows. When he unleashed his magic they practical shimmered. Then there was his hair, as black as always. He'd taken during the war to cutting it short, almost brutally so, for practicality. He'd kept up the habit afterwards, finding it easier to manage. Without the longer messy locks to distract, his features looked sharper. Fierce, Ginny had once told him. Exotic and dangerous, according to Hermione.

"That would be me," he finally said, in answer to Sirius's question. "Harry Peverell, defeater of Dark Lords and general trouble-magnet. I'd offer you my card, but I left it in another set of robes," he joked dryly. "And you, must be Sirius Black." Harry then turned to Mrs and Mr Black. "You agreed that Sirius and I might have a private audience."

The two, with some reluctance, nodded and retreated from the room. Sirius, he saw, was fidgeting a bit nervously at being alone with him, but mostly succeeding in appearing calm and cool.

"So," the teen spoke up boldly despite his nerves, "why in Merlin's name did you decide you wanted to marry me of all people? Not that I wouldn't be a bloody good catch, but I imagine you have them queuing up since offing Voldy. Plus, you know," Sirius added, a bit spitefully, "might've been nice if you actually got to know me before sneaking about with my parents to have me sold off without even asking my opinion."

Immediately Sirius stilled, realising what he'd said, or rather to whom he'd said it. That is to say, he'd just smarted off to a very powerful wizard who'd just defeated Voldemort himself, a feat Dumbledore hadn't even managed. To his credit though Sirius didn't back down or apologise. He just raised an expectant brow and waited tensely for a response.

"You think I'd petition for a betrothal without doing my research first?" Harry returned coolly, raising his own brow. "I did get to know you before deciding I wanted you, just from afar rather than in person."

"Really?" Doubt was clear in Sirius's question, but so too was curiosity. "And what do you think you know about me then?"

"Well…" Harry considered before deciding to be blunt. "You're brave—"

"I'm a Gryffindor," Sirius broke in, sounding unimpressed. "That one's kind of a given."

"—but," Harry continued as if he'd not been interrupted, "you're also reckless. You're proud and confident, but arrogant and insecure." Sirius shifted uncomfortably at this last, but clenched his jaw and said nothing. "You can be a light-hearted prankster, but your jokes can sometimes verge well into bullying. You're compassionate and _incredibly_ loyal towards your friends. You'd die for them, without a second thought, before you'd ever betray them," Harry said, letting his admiration be heard in his tone. "But on the other hand, towards those you consider enemies you can be cruel, vicious and remorseless. You've a shining soul, Sirius Black, but you've darkness to you as well."

And now Sirius was staring at him, eyes wide and filled with … something. Surprise, definitely. Confusion and a touch of awe too. And something else. Perhaps the teensiest bit of enthrallment, of the non-magical kind?

"How do you _know_ all that?"

"I know _you_, Sirius. Good and bad. And I stand by my choice. You're the one I want." And now of course, Sirius looked a bit lost and unsure how to respond. So Harry extended a hand towards him. "Come here."

"What?"

"You're not sure what to say," Harry said, laying out plainly what he was sure was Sirius' state of mind. "You came here today intending to reject me outright, and now I've captured your attention and you're not so completely confident that would be the right idea. I intrigue you, and you're attracted to me on that level at least. So come here, and we'll see if you mightn't be attracted to me on another level as well. A physical level." Still Sirius hesitated, so Harry let some of his power slip out into his next words. "_Come here Sirius_," whispered from his mouth, even as his magic whispered the same, coaxing, urging.

Almost dazedly, Sirius rose to his feet and approached. When he was close enough Harry snagged his hand and tugged him to sit on the coffee table before his own seat. And all the while he kept up that slow, enthralling trickle of power. Perhaps it was cheating a bit, influencing Sirius this way, especially when he probably had no idea what was happening, but Harry hadn't gone to all the effort he had only to lose for having played fair. No, he was playing to win.

And so Harry slid to the edge of his seat. He released his grip on Sirius's hand to trail his up the boy's arm and across shoulder and collar bone, then traced up his throat where an Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow, finally coming to a stop cradling a strong jaw with fingers just edging into the soft hair behind the ear. His second hand came to rest at Sirius's hip even as the first tugged the boy's head up towards his.

He kept the kiss gentle at first, just a whisper of contact, as his thumb rubbed back and forth across as surprisingly soft cheek. When Sirius relaxed enough to let out a quiet sigh Harry tilted his head and pressed more firmly, daring to suck the boy's lower lip into his mouth, swiping at it with his tongue briefly before releasing and continuing the kiss. He hid a smirk as the action succeeded in causing Sirius's breath to catch, then to lean further into the kiss, a hand coming up to clutch at the front of Harry's robe.

When finally Harry pulled back he was smugly pleased to see Sirius's cheeks were flushed pink, his lips were a touch redder than normal, and his eyes were dark with want. And all that from a kiss that hadn't really been all that wanton. Of course, Harry had been feeding his magic to Sirius all throughout, in a wave of soft warmth and treacly want, enhancing every pleasure Sirius felt. Sometimes, it was so very useful being the most powerful wizard alive.

"So, I'd say that's a yes."

"W-what?" Sirius stammered most uncharacteristically, blinking rapidly.

"The _physical_ attraction? I'd say that's definitely there too."

"Oh, _yeah_," Sirius said with perhaps more honest eagerness than he'd usually allow, as some clarity came to his features then, followed by a flush of embarrassment and an effort to appear less affected. "I mean, I suppose it wasn't bad." Harry just smiled knowingly till Sirius defensively asked, "What?"

Without warning Harry slid the hand still at Sirius's jaw around to behind his neck, jerked his head back up again, and dove into a kiss far more intense and passionate that the last. He nibbled at lips and tangled with tongue and lapped at the inside of Sirius's mouth, all the while pouring waves of lustful magic at the boy, until he was little more than an incoherent, moaning puddle. He doubted Sirius even noticed as the hand at his hip slid around his back, and he was lifted from the coffee table to straddle Harry's lap.

This time when Harry ended the kiss Sirius lay pliant against his chest, breathing very deeply, eyes completely glazed, and whimpering softly without thought as his tilted his chin weakly up, as if seeking for Harry to claim his lips once more. Harry just chuckled and shifted in his armchair, shuffling back and reclining slightly. The sound and the movement roused Sirius just enough to be embarrassed at his actions, which were not at all those of the confident seducer he liked to portray himself as. Rather, he had been acting the part of the one being skilfully seduced.

"So, yes to the physical attraction, right?" Harry asked.

"I—"

"_Be truthful with me Sirius_," he urged with words and magic.

"Yes," Sirius admitted in a whisper.

"And intellectually attracted too, with your intrigue?"

"Yes."

"And what about magically Sirius?" And he let a wave of power, blatant this time and unmistakable, project outwards. In his lap the boy shook. "Are you attracted to me magically as well?"

"Yes." And the whisper was shaky with want.

"So would it really be so terrible, being my husband?"

"I- I'm not sure."

"Hmm, so something's still holding you back." Harry traced a hand absently up and down Sirius's spine, above his shirt but beneath his leather jacket, and had to hide a pleased smile as the touch made Sirius shiver. "Is it your family? I had the impression you weren't close to them, but if you're not ready to leave your parents' home … is that it?

"No," was the firm reply. "I can't wait to get out of here." He then added, tongue loosened by magic, "I was thinking of running away to the Potter's place."

"Ah, your friend James's home, I take it. Why haven't you yet, if that's what you want?" he asked, and then had to press more coaxing magic on the boy as he hesitated to answer.

"Don't want to be a burden," Sirius admitted reluctantly. "Mother's always said I was a burden. Well, that and a disgrace. Still, don't want to be a burden on the Potters. They've always been good to me, you know. Too good. If I had gold enough to pay my way then maybe … but mother cut off access to my trust vault."

"The Peverell vaults are very well funded you know, and you'd have access to it. Not that it matters, since as my husband you'd be mine to take care of. Not a burden," he whispered, teasing carefully with his magic, "Never a burden. _Cherished_." Sirius shivered at the word, and Harry had a hunch. "Would you like that Sirius?" he asked. "To be mine? To be taken care of? To be," he added cunningly, but with honest promise, "_the_ most important person in my world, cherished beyond all others." And now Sirius was clutching tightly at him, pressing close, though he felt the boy may not have even noticed he was doing so. Harry leaned closer to whisper right in his ear, laying magic heavily over the boy. "Do you want to _belong_ Sirius?"

"_Yes_," Sirius cried then, voice almost desperate as it caught on a sob.

Well, Harry thought to himself, wrapping arms around Sirius to hold him close. Well, it seemed they were more alike than he'd thought. Like him, Sirius had grown up with unloving parents who made him feel he was a burden. Like him, he had made a best friend who he envied terribly for his wonderful family. And like him, Sirius wanted more than anything to belong to someone, to be first in someone's eyes, beloved above all else. And that was the key, he now knew, to winning Sirius's consent. He could have shouted in joy, knowing his victory was now imminent.

Very soon they were kissing again, desperate wet kisses, and hands were wandering, pulling at clothes. Harry shoved Sirius's jacket from his shoulders and then tugged his shirt up and off. Unwilling to let Sirius get away from him for even a moment he simply dragged his hands up the boy's jean-covered legs, denim fading from existence with the passing of his touch. His own robes Harry simply vanished with a thought. And then his hand slid down Sirius's back, slipped into the crease, circling then pressing inside.

He was hurried in his preparation, so impatient that he whispered words, using magic to make Sirius properly ready. In moments he was gripping firmly at the boy's hips and pulling him down, even as he himself thrust up, and they were joined. Sirius gasped and he groaned, and then they were moving, Harry's hands, still at those hips, directing him to raise and lower himself to the rhythm he wished. For a while he just lay back, watching the beautiful sight of the boy riding him, till he began to get impatient.

He urged Sirius to speed his pace, but it wasn't enough. Harry drew his knees up, dug his heels into the edge of the chair, and starting thrusting in counterpoint. Sirius tried to keep up as his thrusts grew faster and faster and more and more fierce, but before too long all he could do was bury his face in Harry's neck and hold on. The desperate sounds Sirius made grew more and more urgent and Harry's grunts became harsher and harsher. And then suddenly Sirius went rigid with a loud cry, then slumped, shaking against him. Twice more Harry thrust, before he joined him in release.

Harry laid there, still buried deep inside the body of the boy sprawled limply across his chest, breathing deeply. He could feel the magic, his own and Sirius's both, heavy in the air around them, in the way it always did after sex for wizards and witches. But it was fading slowly, and Harry knew he had to complete the process before it did so entirely. He wrapped his arms around Sirius, holding him tightly.

"Mine," he whispered, "My husband."

Of its own accord, his magic in the air about them began to vibrate with intent.

A pause, and then, "Yours. Your husband."

Sirius's magic began to vibrate too.

"Mine."

"Yours."

And the magics began to combine and swirl about them.

"Mine," he said one last time, because these things always did work in threes.

A hesitation, and Harry's breath caught until, "Yours," Sirius finally whispered.

It was like an explosion. Light flashed as the magic in the air surged and blended and then coiled about them both. It pulsed and sunk into their skin and with that, it was done. The betrothal had been finalised with the consummation and declarations, and they were now married in the eyes of magic.

Sirius belonged to Harry.

For a moment he almost felt guilty for how he had manipulated the situation, and he wasn't just talking about the magical compulsions. He wasn't even referring to the fact that, as much as the name Peverell had become his by right since mastering the Hallows, he was actually Sirius's best friend's son and Sirius's own godson-to-be. No, the lie of omission he was thinking of was one of far greater relevance.

Sirius's answer might have been far less certain, Harry suspected, if he'd known that in a few short weeks his Uncle Alphard was due to die, leaving him gold enough to run away to live with the Potters without fear of being a burden. But, as Harry had decided earlier, he played to win. He'd defied time and fate itself to go back and find his godfather again. And now he'd found him, he intended to keep him always.

Yes, Sirius belonged to Harry now, and this time, Harry would _never_ let him go.

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><p><strong>Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Posted**: 9 Dec, 2013

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note**: Presenting a much-requested follow-up to what was formerly a oneshot. No promises for more than this. On the other hand, no promises there _won't_ be more. We'll see what happens. Hope you enjoy this short but equally-porny sequel, as Harry and Sirius settle into married life.

**Warnings**: Same as in chapter one—slash, adult content, magical coercion, questionable morality.

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><p>"This is your house?"<p>

"_Our_ house now," Harry reminded in a gently chiding tone, leading the way up to the door of an upscale London townhouse. "There's an ancestral home somewhere, Peverell Palace it's called. I think they were going for alliteration there though, because aren't palaces for royalty?" He shrugged then, before withdrawing a key from his pocket and putting it in the lock. "Not that it matters. But anyway, it's a huge mansion, this big gothic monstrosity actually, and really far too big and pretentions and spooky to want to live in. So, I bought this place."

And with that, Harry opened the door and ushered the younger wizard inside. He hung his cloak up on the rack by the door, then took it upon himself to help Sirius out of his leather jacket, purposefully letting his hands wander and linger as he did so. He pretended not to notice the boy's confliction at his actions, automatically leaning into the touch at first, then straightening stiffly and avoiding his gaze.

"So," Sirius said with brash confidence, "who do I have to prank to get a tour of the place?"

"Come on then, and I'll show you around."

He slid a hand across Sirius's back, bringing it to rest near his opposite hip, and used it to guide the boy forward. He smiled as the boy blushed, ever so faintly, and did his best to take the possessive action in stride.

He showed Sirius around the house, pleased to see he approved of the classy-yet-homey décor. That was not surprising though, since it was surely an improvement on Grimmauld Place. Speaking of… Harry smirked in memory of their exit from the house. Orion and Walburga Black had been quite put out to find that his private audience with their eldest had led to a full consummation and finalisation of the marriage contract. Doubtless they'd been hoping to make a grand and showy affair of the betrothal and eventual wedding. Reputation counted for a lot in their circles, and Harry wasn't ignorant that they'd been hoping to boost their own by marrying Sirius off to 'The Mysterious Peverell', defeater of Voldemort. Harry was not one for pomp and ceremony and ego boosting however. Nor had he been willing to wait a moment longer than necessary to claim Sirius as his own, possessive bastard that he was these days. And on the subject of Sirius being his…

"And this," Harry said, "is the master bedroom. That door over there's to the wardrobe, it's a walk-in, and there's room for all your clothes and such too. Anything else of yours, find a home for it wherever, in here or about the house. I'm not too fussy about my space."

"Right," Sirius said a touch nervously, staring at the decadent and, frankly, hedonistic bed that was the centre-piece of the room. After a long moment his eyes jerked away. "I'll just start unpacking then shall I?"

The teen looked eager escape, doubtless to distract himself from thoughts of the shared room, large bed, and just what that implied. Harry was having none of that though. The boy had been avoiding his touch where possible, or else pretending to be unaffected by it, ever since they re-dressed and left the drawing room at Grimmauld. Harry though, had no intention of letting that behaviour escalate. Sirius was his _husband_, and not one of mere convenience, and he wouldn't be allowed to forget that.

And so, Harry caught his hand as he turned away towards the wardrobe and gently tugged him back around. He stepped close, feeling a strange, amused affection at the way Sirius's eyes grew a bit wide and he seemed to be holding his breath. He took the teen's face in his hands then and kissed him, slowly and softly, but not at all chastely. No magic this time though. No, he just let lips and tongue do all the influencing and was pleased to find, when he pulled back, that just the physical was still enough to make his boy _want_.

"I, ah, I'll just go unpack now," Sirius muttered and, flushed, fled to the 'safety' of the wardrobe room.

Harry just smiled at the retreating figure, called out that he was going to get dinner ready and could be found in the kitchen, and left the room. Yes, Sirius definitely wanted him, even _without_ magic urging his feelings higher. Sure, he'd not been able to make him desperate and mindless just from a kiss, but it had definitely aroused nonetheless, if the hardness he'd felt grow against his own was any indication. Still smiling, he entered the kitchen to start dinner.

The rest of the evening passed quietly and held much amusement for Harry. It was all a bit cat-and-mouse really, the way Sirius tried to avoid him without actually _appearing_ to be avoiding him, hiding about the house with the excuse of 'getting to know the place'. Harry of course kept seeking him out, whereupon there would be suggestive touches and the occasional kiss until Sirius could reasonably excuse himself and run away again, flushed and dark-eyed.

The poor boy was confused of course. It didn't take a genius to work it out. His whole life had changed in the course of an afternoon, to say nothing of the bisexuality revelation. Harry knew, from one rather frank chat with his godfather before he'd died, that the man had been very much a lady's man in his youth, and only really discovered he was attracted to men as well after leaving Hogwarts. So yes, Sirius was no doubt very confused and uncertain. Unfortunately for him though, patience had never been one of Harry's strong suits.

Later that night, he pretended not to notice Sirius making a choking sound as he emerged from their en suite after showering for bed, dried but entirely naked. He blew out the candles, leaving only the moonlight through the windows to light the room, then slipped into the free side of the bed. Without pause he slid across the space between them and pulled Sirius closer, huffing laughter at the undignified sound he made.

* * *

><p>Sirius lay still and tense, heart thudding loudly in his ears, and throat feeling dry. It was awkward enough that Peverell or Harry or however he should call him, who was his <em>husband<em> of all things, had stepped out of the bathroom completely starkers, and not bothered to dress before getting into the bed. Their huge _shared_ bed, which practically screamed 'place for shagging and other naughty stuff'. Then Peverell, or Harry or whatever, had rather presumptuously grabbed him and yanked him over so that he lay sprawled across his chest. His broad, muscular, naked, sexy—_no_! No, he wasn't thinking that. He wasn't thinking that, because that way lay madness and questions about his sexual identity that he really couldn't be arsed to dwell on just yet, and plus, he was trying not to die of embarrassment. Said embarrassment was not even because of all the nakedness, or the sprawled across the chest thing, but rather for the completely ridiculous squawking-squeaking sound he'd just made. He was Sirius Black dammit, and he was cool and suave. He did not squawk or squeak, and he certainly didn't utter some bastardisation of the two.

A hand tilted his chin up and lips abruptly descended onto his, even as another slid down his back and slipped under his pyjamas to grip his rear without so much as a by-your-leave.

Sirius squeak-squawked.

Peverell, or Harry—he really needed to decide on a name before that got any more confusing—chuckled at his reaction. The bastard. The confusing, presumptuous, naked, sexy—_dammit,_ he was doing it _again_! Angry at himself and the situation in general, he considered jerking away and leaving the room. But then the man's thigh, which was rather conveniently located between his own two, pressed up against his groin. Sirius groaned despite himself and decided that perhaps rather than run away like a coward he should be taking control of the situation, showing Peverell, or Harry or whatever, who was boss. Choosing this idea over the leaving of course had _nothing_ to do with the wonderful sensation of the thigh pressing rhythmically against him. Nope, not a thing.

Decided, Sirius surged upward, straddling the body he'd been sprawled across, and turning the kiss around. Now it was _him_ ravaging… He supposed 'Harry' was best, given the intimacy of the situation. Either way, he was now the ravish-_er_ in the scenario, rather than the ravish-_ee_. Not that Harry seemed to mind, appearing quite willing to let Sirius have his way with him. Sirius took the opportunity to assess the situation a bit. The whole 'guy' thing, that is to say. The kissing was a bit different than with a girl, with the slightest scratch of stubble. The body under his was firm rather than soft, less curved and more toned. And the hands that gripped him were stronger, the movements of the body more powerful. It was strange… and exceedingly hot, actually. He wondered why he'd never tried out guys before. Clearly he'd been doing no more than limiting his options, by sticking strictly to the witches. And imagine, all those poor gay wizards who had been deprived of Sirius Black!

His musing thoughts were cut off then as he experimentally licked at a nipple and rocked his hips downward, only for Harry to groan deeply and flip them over. Sirius blinked a bit in surprise at finding himself suddenly on his back, Harry settled between his thighs with one hand threaded into Sirius's hair to angle his head for deep kisses, and the both of them utterly naked in the wake of a tingling sweep of Harry's delightful magic. Wait, Sirius thought, this wasn't right. _He_ was supposed to be the ravisher this time, wasn't he? Assert his reputation, take control, and all that stuff.

He tried to make an objecting sound, but it was half-hearted even to start with. The moment a large, warm hand closed around him, working up and down, the sound became nothing more than a moan. He felt a tingling of magic inside him which he'd only felt once before, earlier that day, and his breath caught as he then felt Harry push into him. Against his will he made a vulnerable sort of whining sound, that was more Padfoot-like than his human form usually uttered, and fisted the sheets in his hand. There was just something so utterly overwhelming about being filled like this. It felt like he was hyperventilating, unable to get enough air no matter how hard he tried.

Then Harry began moving and all coherent thought was lost. Before Sirius knew it he was gasping and groaning and clutching tightly to broad shoulders, and his legs had somehow come up to wrap around those hips. Their movements became faster and more frenzied, and their kisses more desperate and wet and inelegant. And then he was coming with a hoarse cry he heard echoed a moment later as Harry tensed and then collapsed atop him. Sirius shuddered as the man pulled out, then found himself drifting off as he was gathered into a surprisingly tender embrace.

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><p>Harry woke the next morning with a warm body pressed against his side. He looked down and smiled. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to Sirius being alive again. To being with him again. And to being <em>with him<em>, which was something new entirely. New, but immeasurably satisfying, and not just in a physical way. Not that the physical was anything to scoff at. No, not at all. In fact…

He carefully drew back the sheets and shuffled down the bed, giving his husband an awakening he was sure to enjoy, and bringing him to release with both his mouth and skilful use of probing fingers. He then led the still-dazed boy to the en suite and directed him to brace against the shower wall, taking him for the third time under the hot, falling spray. For the first time since Grimmauld he brought his magic into play again, driving Sirius's passion higher so that he could come with him, despite so little recovery time. Not that much encouragement was needed. Sirius was a teenage boy after all, with the overabundant hormones one would expect from such a one.

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><p>The rest of the week passed much the same as the first day had, with Sirius disappearing to be alone and Harry seeking him out. Only he often escalated the touches and kisses far beyond mere teasing. To his delight, Sirius grew more comfortable around him and with all his attentions. In fact, he suspected the younger wizard had begun finding their little cat-and-mouse game as much of a thrill as Harry did, for he barely tried to resist whenever caught, and in fact became quite enthusiastic in his participation. Harry had thus far taken him in not only several times in their bedroom and en suite, but also on the living room couch, pressed up against the wall in the hallway, on the kitchen counter, bent over the dining room table, and in a display of near acrobatic proportions, halfway up the book-ladder in the library.<p>

Of course regular sex was regular sex, and Sirius _was_ a teenage boy, as previously pointed out. It wasn't surprising he'd adjust so quickly to that sort of thing. Harry wasn't dim enough to mistake physical intimacy for emotional intimacy. He wanted it all though, wanted to possess everything that Sirius was, so he had taken to, in the afterglow when the teen's defences were down, initiating conversations about any and every subject available. Occasionally, when his questions and comments veered into very personal areas, Sirius would clam up. Harry, unwilling to allow such distance between them, always gently urged with his magic till Sirius would open up to him and talk.

He supposed he ought to feel ashamed for this blatant abuse of Sirius's trust. What was that quote? With great power comes great responsibility. Of course, there was another quote that said power corrupts. Hermione had certainly believed in that one. In those last months before he managed to send himself back, his bushy-haired friend had been watching him with more and more concern and suspicion, calling him out often on the morality of his actions and 'misuse' of his magic.

Hmm, perhaps power really _did_ corrupt. He was sure if his younger self could see him now he'd be horrified. Harry though, hadn't let Hermione's words bother him much then, and still didn't now. He continued using his magic in any way he felt necessary, and to keep Sirius close to him, making the boy open up to him, was something he felt justifiable. Sirius was his now, and Harry intended it to be in every way possible. He wouldn't let his husband distance himself from him in any way.

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><p><strong>Reviews make me happy (hint, hint).<strong>


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